


Witness

by spaceylacey83



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, Kink Meme, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, ohgodifeelsobad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:04:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceylacey83/pseuds/spaceylacey83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt on The Hobbit kink meme: "Ok. I feel kind of horrible but this idea occurred to me and I can't stop thinking on it. What I'd like to see is Bilbo, with the ring, catching some of Thranduil's guards while they're raping Kíli. I'd prefer something non-graphic, from Bilbo's point of veiw.</p><p>Bonus love if:<br/>Bilbo is torn between staying hidden and helping Kíli<br/>It isn't porny but emotional<br/>Bilbo has to look Thorin in the eye after"</p><p>So... yeah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witness

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Knapped Flint](https://archiveofourown.org/works/613800) by [inkling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkling/pseuds/inkling). 



> I'm actually nervous about this one because it's not at all what I've been writing and so it feels risky. I was asked on the kink meme if I planned to carry it on further, but I don't think I will. If you are interested in seeing the aftermath of a situation like this you really have to read Knapped Flint by inkling. I'm not trying to imply that Knapped Flint is a continuation of this story or that this story is in ANY way related to Knapped Flint but I've had that story on my mind for a few days now and when I ran across this prompt I had written the fill before I even knew what I was doing (Basically. It all happened very fast, I swear). It's an incredible story and will eat your brain. Reviews are author fuel and I want inkling to have so many reviews that she writes forever. So go read it and tell her how good it is.

Mirkwood is a horrible time for Bilbo. Not only does he spend a good part of it entirely alone and scrounging for food, his companions are all locked up, separated, and in various stages of mental breakdown. There are days when Bilbo wishes he was the one in a cell with breakfast, lunch, and dinner being brought to him while someone else steals around like a thief in a never ending night, anxiously searching for a way out. He feels like he can barely let his guard down to sleep, especially after he wakes, once, to the alarming sensation of broom bristles on his face. The servant sweeping at him is bewildered and Bilbo has to hurry away, as silently as he can, and hope that the elf dismisses the strange occurrence as something other than an invisible hobbit sleeping in the corridors, hoping to empty the dungeons.

Of course there are other days when he’s thankful for his pseudo freedom, when his dwarf companions greet him with dull gazes and weary words. He can’t even talk to Bifur, though it doesn’t take conversation for him to see the poor old fellow is miserable. Once, Bilbo gets to pass a message to him, created by hand signs that he doesn’t understand but had performed for Thorin about ten times before the dwarf had been satisfied, and it seems to leave him a little more resolute than before.

He learns a great deal of gossip, most of which he hardly cares about. The Elvenking is fond of truffle candies and someone named Alogost believes that his newborn infant is not actually his at all. Sometimes he gets to hear from the elves themselves just how neatly the dwarves are frustrating their interrogations and he can’t help the flicker of pride he feels when he hears these things. As intrigued as Bilbo has always been by the elves of Middle Earth, he is entirely appalled by these Mirkwood elves’ treatment of outsiders. Bilbo hadn’t been too happy to have a troupe of hungry dwarves descending on his doorstep, either, but he hadn’t called the shirriffs on them, by any means.

For the most part, though, the days drag by painfully slow, and Bilbo doesn’t find much at all that seems of use.

“I don’t even feel like I’m accomplishing anything,” he admits, one day, after Thorin’s questions fluster him. “I’m just sneaking around learning who puts their fingers up their noses or who is being unfaithful to whom.”

Thorin tries harder to be patient with Bilbo these days but Bilbo can usually tell just when his captain is lamenting that Bilbo is Bilbo and not some sturdy dwarf with a stiff upper lip. “You mustn’t lose heart,” he says, looking very seriously through the bars at Bilbo. “There are thirteen of us who have no hope but you, Master Hobbit.”

“I know,” Bilbo says, just a bit petulant. He squares his shoulders and nods his head, reaching into his pocket for his ring. 

“Come and speak to me again once you’ve passed my message along,” Thorin adds, before Bilbo can disappear. Bilbo nods his head and slips his ring on, and begins making his way up through the dungeons. He passes many messages between the sons of Durin, but he has come to assume that it makes Thorin feel better to hear from his nephews, so Bilbo makes time to do it for him. It’s not like he’s too busy, more often than not. 

Today, Thorin has reached the worrying conclusion that the Elvenking might make some threat against those close to him, as his frustration at their silence grows. They’ve been here nearly a fortnight already and Bilbo, hidden away, has seen and heard of the Elvenking’s ever deepening impatience with his dwarven prisoners.

“He’s worrying his beard gray, isn’t he,” Fíli asks, once his end of the message has been delivered. 

“I might not have phrased it that way but… Yes, he really is. I’m certain I’m only bringing messages so I that I can take a few back, though he’s just as officious as ever,” Bilbo answers and he shares a dry smile with Fíli.

“Tell him, I wouldn’t claim him on any account,” Fíli says, and then he shakes his head. “No, don’t tell him that. Jokes don’t always travel very well, do they, and I’d wager he’s not in good humor. Tell him I’ll keep my mouth shut just as he asks, and that I’m well.”

“Are _you_ in good humor,” he can’t help asking, and Fíli grins a slightly deranged little grin.

“Have to pass the time somehow,” Fíli says.

With Fíli’s answer on hand, Bilbo begins making his way toward Kíli’s cell. The Elvenking has gone to great lengths to see them separated entirely. Bilbo has climbed four flights of steps and turned down countless corridors on his trek from Thorin to Fíli and finally to Kíli and the journey is long and a little breathless with the anxiety that has become a part of Bilbo’s day to day, here in the King’s Cave. Kíli has been doing about as well as his brother, antsy and frustrated but eager enough to see Bilbo whenever the hobbit manages to drop by. They’re all eager to see him. The elven guards do not speak unless it is to interrogate, which hardly counts as a conversation, and so Bilbo is the only friendly ear any of them have. 

As he turns his final corner, though, the sound of quiet elven voices further down the corridor slows his step. The guards are at Kíli’s cell, it appears, and Thorin’s message will have to wait until they have passed. He begins to edge closer.

Before Bilbo has a chance to peek around the edge of the barred door, though, the loud, sharp smack of skin making contact with skin freezes him in place. He hears a startled cry that he recognizes as Kíli’s and then the sounds of a struggle and a few dwarven words that Bilbo recognizes as pejorative only by the way in which Kíli says them. There is a strange tone in Kíli’s voice that Bilbo has never heard there and, for a moment, Bilbo can’t bring himself to move. He has the most dreadful feeling, right down deep in his gut, that he doesn’t _want_ to see what’s lending that ragged edge to Kíli’s voice.

Then Kíli makes a sound unlike anything Bilbo has ever heard in his life, a raw sound somewhere between a scream and a sob, and Bilbo’s belly turns to ice.

When he finally moves himself to peek around the door, what he sees is beyond all imagining. There are three of Thranduil’s elven guardsmen in Kíli’s cell and they have a struggling Kíli, face down on the floor between them, with his hands pinned at the small of his back. There is a crazed, desperate look in Kíli’s eyes and he’s making that _sound_ and Bilbo sees far too much naked skin and…

Bilbo flattens himself against the wall outside Kíli’s cell again, covering his mouth with his hand to keep from crying out. His stomach is rolling and his mind is racing and Bilbo has to fight off a wave of sickness that leaves him in a cold sweat against the stone wall, gripped by indecision. Everything that Bilbo wants to do right now – things more vicious than he has ever wanted to do to anyone in his life – would reveal his presence to the elves. Even if he isn’t caught, the Elvenking will know that something is wrong. The guard might well be doubled, cutting off what little contact Bilbo is able to sustain between the dwarves who might, themselves, be punished. If he is caught, they will be trapped here, entirely at the Elvenking’s whim. It feels horrible to Bilbo, to stand here and weigh his choices when one of them is only to stand idly by while Kíli is hurt. 

Kíli has stopped making that awful sound, but the silence that has replaced it is, if possible, even more nerve-wracking. There is only the wet slide of skin and the rhythmic grunting of Kíli’s assailant. In the end, Bilbo can only stand there with a heavy heart, waiting for it to end, for the guards to leave. It seems to last an eternity, this evil act, and Bilbo’s warring instincts leave him with an ache that is nearly physical. He despises himself for doing nothing just a little more intensely with every slap of skin, every lustful sigh. He cringes when he hears the elven guard’s voice crying out in release.

Then, Kíli says, “no,” and it’s an awful, broken sound that Bilbo would have never ascribed to his friend, if he hadn’t heard it himself. There is another brief struggle and Bilbo’s heart drops a little further as he realizes that the elves aren’t finished. He does not look again but he can’t stop the nightmare images in his mind’s eye, can’t stop seeing that awful hurt expression on Kíli’s face. He can’t block out the sounds, not entirely, though he covers his ears with his hands and squeezes his eyes tightly shut. He is a participant in this scene whether the major players know it or not and that fact makes Bilbo feel dirty and cruel. The sickness wells up again and Bilbo, feeling like the most heartless coward ever born, has to move silently away until he can no longer hear what is being done to his friend. 

Eventually, it does end. Bilbo looks up from his spot on the floor as the three elves pass him by, speaking amongst themselves in their own language, laughing as though they haven’t just debased their prisoner in one of the foulest ways Bilbo has ever imagined. He hates them. It is a feeling he once thought he held towards his vile relatives, the Sackville-Baggins, but that is nothing to the all-consuming heat and the red that fills his vision at the sight of their smiling faces. He considers how easily his Sting could find each of them. With his magic ring and all this new hatred, he knows he could do it. What he doesn’t know is what the repercussions of that act will be. It is the existence of twelve other dwarves that pushes Bilbo to move away from them and he makes his quiet way back to Kíli’s cell.

For a long moment, the only sound in the corridor is Kíli’s labored breathing. Then there is the rustle of cloth and the scrape of boots on the stone floor, a quiet pained sound. Bilbo feels ill and, now that the thing is done, he can’t seem to work up the courage to reveal himself to Kíli. He isn’t even sure how he would go about starting that conversation.

_Well, Kíli, I had a message for you but I reckoned I should let those elves finish-._

Bilbo can’t even think the word. It’s strange because he’s read it before, several times, usually in conjunction with, ‘pillage,’ and usually in a very abstract way. Something that happens to characters too small to be given names or faces. It isn’t a truth of life that Bilbo has ever had cause to consider. Now, only yards away from the bleak reality of it, the word will probably never be an abstraction for Bilbo, ever again.

When Kíli begins to weep, so quietly that Bilbo almost doesn’t even hear it, Bilbo finds himself tearing up as well. He aches to offer Kíli some comfort but the idea of admitting this, of Kíli knowing that he has been sacrificed for the good of the company, it’s terrifying to Bilbo. So, he sits there and he waits until Kíli’s breathing evens back out and then he waits a little bit longer to make sure that he is composed as well.

Once Bilbo has worked up enough courage to go to the barred door and remove his ring, he sees the young dwarf curled in on himself, tucked into a corner and staring dully at the floor. His face is pale, except for one livid red mark along his cheekbone, and his hair is all a mess. His expression is far away and he doesn’t notice Bilbo, at first. 

“Kíli,” Bilbo calls, tentatively.

When Kíli’s blank gaze meets up with Bilbo’s, the hobbit feels a fresh wave of shame. Kíli blinks his eyes at Bilbo for a moment and then seems to come to himself, slightly. He pushes up to his feet, with an all too obvious grimace, and approaches Bilbo at the door.

“Are… Are you all right,” Bilbo asks, because that’s what he would ask if this was the truth. Kíli is obviously not all right and Bilbo shouldn’t know why. There’s always the chance that Kíli will tell him and no façade will have to be built. His voice sounds thick and wrong to him, though, and it is taking real effort on his part to keep his carefully gathered composure.

“What,” Kíli asks, and then, “Yes. Yes, just... I suppose we’re all ready to have done with this place, aren’t we?” He sounds dazed, like Bilbo feels. The real Bilbo would never fall for this but the Bilbo who has allowed Kíli to suffer so horribly lets it pass. “Did you… What did you need, Bilbo?”

Thorin’s worried message, the quiet chuckle shared with Kíli’s brother, they feel like they happened ages ago. It takes Bilbo a moment to remember why he had even been coming down the corridor, at all. “Your uncle is… concerned,” he finally says, his words coming out a little stiffer than intended. He shares Thorin’s message and Kíli looks suspiciously at him for a moment, but he seems less inclined to bring the subject up than Bilbo is. Not that the hobbit is surprised.

“Tell him I won’t say a word to anyone and that I’m… Tell him I’m well,” Kíli says, and this new Bilbo nods his head even though the old one wouldn’t have. Kíli isn’t well. He doesn’t look or sound well but Bilbo nods anyway and agrees to take the answer back to Thorin.

Thorin, himself, is hanging anxiously off the bars of his cell when Bilbo returns. Once Bilbo has slipped off his ring, a relief floods Thorin’s face that Bilbo knows shouldn’t be there.

“Master Baggins,” Thorin says. “I was starting to worry you’d been held up.”

Bilbo lets out a rather shrill little laugh and wrings his hands. They feel clammy all of a sudden and Bilbo resists the urge to wipe them on his trousers. “No. I… No, the guards were making their… rounds. I had to wait.”

Thorin’s expression is suspicious now and Bilbo realizes, for the first time really, that he looks rather like an older version of his nephew. The boy that Bilbo had decided was worth less than the freedom of Thorin’s company.

“You passed my message along?”

Bilbo nods.

“And my nephews?”

“They are... They are well.” He gets the sense that Thorin doesn’t believe him but he doesn’t know what else to say. The real Bilbo would probably tell Thorin the truth. The real Bilbo would have done the right thing, whatever that is, and would have felt no need to hide. The real Bilbo is certainly not the hobbit standing before Thorin’s cell, with the image of Kíli’s blank brown gaze in his mind’s eye and the sharp stab of guilt eating away at him. “As well as they can be, at least, considering the circumstances.”

He just isn't sure where that Bilbo is anymore.


End file.
